


Misunderstanding

by Katzy_Kins



Category: Dragon Age 2, da2 - Fandom
Genre: Anders Lives, Dragon Age 2 - Freeform, F/M, Fenris/Hawke Fluff, gtfo Anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzy_Kins/pseuds/Katzy_Kins
Summary: Fenris doesn't understand why Hawke let Anders live...But Hawke has a very good reason for not letting anyone else die.(Oneshot)





	Misunderstanding

As the ground shook and the Chantry tower was engulfed in a blinding light, the Templars, and Hawke’s crew alike looked on in both confusion and horror. Anders just stood there, pretending his actions were necessary...pretending he could explain the senseless chaos he had wrought, and that this war between mages and Meredith was “going to happen one way or another,” or so he insisted, but when the knight commander gave the order to kill all the mages in the circle, something in Hawke just decided affirmatively that this was wrong. 

She understood the knight commander’s fears...but she couldn’t side with a decision that harmed innocents, she’d made that very clear when she’d taken to the defense of the mages...Her disappointment and disgust with Anders was also clear...But even so, she couldn’t kill him and didn’t have the heart to send him away. When Meredith and her knights had left him to her, she could finally throw her composure to the wind and explain to him exactly at which point he ruined everything.

“The only reason you aren’t dead yet is because it would serve no purpose. I--I never thought you’d stoop this low, Anders!” He was silent, and he would not look at her. “I don’t even want to know what you were thinking! Because you can never justify--This!” she gestured, frantic, to where the tower once stood, “No matter how bad the circle is--I will not accept excuses! You are going to take an active role in fixing this mess! Or so help me!” she turned away, her nerves fraying like wet, worn rope; she felt sick. “Maker! What were you thinking? No--it doesn’t matter. You killed people, and--you can’t use murder to get your point across! It’s sick!” 

“Seemed to work splendidly for the Templars...” he said gruffly, “I said I don’t want to hear it!” Hawke snapped back. “Get your staff; there’s nothing we can do now, but damage control. We protect the circle mages--however, blood mages are fair game. And know this; I do not trust you, and this is not over. We are not finished here. You’ve destroyed every effort I’ve made to foster peace between Templar and Mage--” 

“You really think you were making any headway with that endeavor?” he stood up, sneering. “What. did. I. say.” Hawke nearly bellowed, the empty streets rattled with the near baritone of her voice. She seldom ever raised her tone to anyone like this, let alone her allies. Anders immediately went silent again having just now realized the extent of her anger, now was not the time to argue with her. This rage was not the kind one could quell with understanding; people were dead and now a full on war had broken out. That was all Hawke saw or cared about, her vision had gone completely red.  
Anders would not be able to reason his way out of this, and criticizing her politics would certainly not gain him any extra favor. There was literally nothing he could do to smooth over what he had destroyed. Part of him saw the mistake he’d made in demolishing something so precious as his alliance with the Champion, but the other half stood by it as the swiftest way to start the rebellion. 

“If you refuse me now after all I’ve done for you--after I allowed you to live, I swear by the Maker, Anders--”  
“--I’ll go with you.” he said simply. He didn’t want to leave her side, and even if he stood by what he’d done, he had ruined their comradery in the process. He would do whatever it took to repair that, but he was done with debating. He could see this situation had escalated past reason. What he’d done was wrong, greater good or not, he’d killed people and caused calamity. He’d made things harder for her; a woman he respected and cared so much for. Even if war was inevitable, he didn’t need to get personally involved--and who knows? Maybe Hawke could’ve brought peace had he given her time...She paused, almost caught off guard by his sudden concession, but even gaining his compliance felt like losing... So many were dead and so many more would die as well. She dug her fingers into her palms in twin clenched fists, and turned from him, walking ahead. “...You’re damn right you will...” she hissed under her breath, half threat, and half demand. 

*** 

Fenris had pulled her aside after the confrontation, stealing away in an alley for privacy. “Hawke, why is the abomination still alive?” he asked bluntly, she couldn’t even look him in the eye as she avoided giving him the only answer she had knowing it wouldn’t satisfy. 

“I...I just...couldn’t.” she found the strength to meet his gaze. “There’d been so much death already and...killing Anders, it--wouldn’t bring anyone back, and it was too late to ensure there’d be no more casualties. What’s done is...unfortunately done.” Fenris looked down, and sighed. “I do not understand your methods, Hawke. He committed a grand scale murder...he should be punished, should he not?” 

She ran trembling fingers through her hair, “yes--no? I don’t know, Fenris. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that everything I could have done would still leave me feeling empty and wrong and--no matter what, another corpse won’t fix any of this, and several hundred more won’t either.” She’d looked him dead in the eyes as she uttered her next shaky string of words, “And...you know better than I that a death promises no closure.” he looked away. She was right, after all. How many times did the death of an enemy leave him feeling no less angry? 

“You are not wrong...but to side with the mages? Magic seldom leads to anything that is not tainted and...evil.” Hawke’s brow furrowed, how dare he ask that question...

“And just how many times have I saved you from death with that 'evil’ magic? How many times has Anders closed your wounds? In spite of your very clear, very mutual distaste for one another, he’s never let you fall in battle.” He recoiled at the acid that still lingered in her tone from the argument prior.

“I will not let Meredith take her anger and fear out on people who have done nothing wrong--they abided by the law in Kirkwall...Blood magic is wrong and I won’t hesitate to take out the mages who seek to sell out space in their hearts to a demon--your trust is not misplaced, but I...” she could feel her eyes warming with tears, and her cheeks heated with fury she couldn’t get rid of fast enough with words alone. “...I’m just so tired of watching people die...” for a moment she’d forgotten her anger, that fierce passion was replaced by an empty feeling, quickly dominated by grief. 

 

All she had in the wake of this senseless destruction was a growing mountain of bodies and no relief for her regret, no outlet for the pain and no time in between to mourn for any of them. She could no longer keep up the charade and hide her sorrow; it turned to thick, dark poison inside of her. Even if she wanted to, she was too drained now, restraint would’ve taken more than she had left. She dropped to her knees, physically exhausted from the facade she’d been putting on, so little was left of her strength that she couldn’t even muster an actual sob. That empty pain had merged, blurring her vision until she could see nothing in front of her; she looked dead as she sat, dazed and listless, leaking from the eyes, unable to do anything but pant soundlessly. 

Fenris was horrified but without a single clue of what to do next, he instinctively approached her. He was hesitant; she was a loose cannon in this state and he didn’t want to worsen her condition but he certainly couldn’t leave her a weeping, confused mess on the dirt streets of Lowtown. He slowly placed one hand on her shoulder, before snaking his whole arm around her. “...It is alright.” he whispered uncertain, trying to keep his voice stern and stable as he brought his free arm to her other shoulder pulling her in tightly against his chest and placing his hand on her head.

She found strength--at least enough to reciprocate the gesture. She reached up and placed both hands on his back, “W--why couldn’t I do it?” she whispered in between harsh breaths, “I had every reason to--but I...” she pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. Her face corrupted with quivering lips twisting into a biting frown, brows knitting, and cheeks stained wet with tears, dirt and blood. “...Why couldn’t I kill him?” he looked at her with as much certainty as he could stand to project. 

The way her face had disarmed him, he had very little to work with now. “It would not have helped matters. You knew this.” he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “But this feeling--like everything’s my fault...I let them all down--how did I not catch on to what Anders was planning? And am I failing them all again by not killing him? What’s the right thing to do?!” her voice had broken several times, and Fenris had made the choice to neglect his previous care. He now had her pressed tightly between himself and the brick wall. Her fingers clamping down desperately on his armored shoulders. 

“I never stopped suspecting him of foul play, and yet even I did not see this coming. If a man wishes to keep something secret, then he will, you could not have known..." He murmured into her hair, hugging her body closer to his. “Murder does not grant peace of mind; you said this yourself.” he said this almost with a note of shame attached. He was proud of her resolve, and even of her mercy. As angry as she was, she never let her anger consume her. He wished he had such resolve...“I do not believe the victims of this...atrocity would wish to see the mage dead...you could not be soothed by such, and it stands to reason the surviving families of  
the dead would not feel true relief, either." He was right, she thought, the death of your family's killer was such a...short lived glory. She felt the passing thrill personally when they'd fell Quentin.  
When that faded feeling of triumph was overtaken with the empty echoes of her now, motherless manor. She felt the pang of her newfound reality when she laid eyes on her mother's room--knowing that she'd never retire to it again.

She knew very well that nothing would ever feel as good for nearly as long as losing her mother had hurt...

"And I do not think it would make you feel better. You were moved by a wrong that cannot be corrected by another death. No matter how well deserved.” his face crumpled at the image of Ander's face, and the pain he'd inflicted on a woman he'd admired so. 

She used her teeth to still her quaking lower lip, “Then...what do I do now? How do I set things right?” and for that, he had no answer. He looked at her, face softening and eyebrows furrowed in wordless apology. She leaned back into his chest, clinging to him and collapsed into another fit of soundless trembles.


End file.
